The most popular trail in Death Valley National Park does indeed appear golden — or at least bright yellow — at sunset. However you decide to describe the color, it's spectacular.

It's early March and I'm nearing the end of my third day exploring this California national park. I've been impressed so far with its variety and beauty. But I'm also tired. It's been a long day and I'm ready to rest. One look at the gorgeous yellow rock at the opening of Golden Canyon and I know that's not going to happen.

It's nearly sunset and I might be pushing it, but even if I only have a few minutes of sunlight on the trail, I have to try it. The hills here on the east side of Death Valley are glowing in the magic hour light.

There is no hyperbole in the naming of this canyon. That gash in the earth is golden.

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The Golden Canyon Trail begins at the mouth of its namesake canyon in Death Valley National Park. Brian Passey / The Spectrum

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An informational sign at the trailhead says it's only a one-mile hike, one way, up the canyon, with an elevation gain of 300 feet. I'll probably run out of light before I finish, but I can always turn back when it gets too dark. So off I go.

I'm already in shadow by the time I make the first bend, but that's OK because the contrast of the shadowy depths with the brilliant peaks above is breathtaking. Photos exaggerate this contrast, casting the canyon into near-black while the yellow cliffs above practically shimmer. Actually, the cliffs seem to shimmer in reality too.

Once upon a time a single-lane road traveled up this canyon but the only evidence is found near the mouth where chunks of broken asphalt remain. A flash flood in the 1970s destroyed the road and thankfully it was never rebuilt.

There are numbered markers along the way and I later find out Golden Canyon is an interpretive trail. The trail guide focuses primarily on the geology of the canyon and how it was formed. There isn't much in the way of plant and animal life in these badlands.

I'm so enchanted by the beauty of the canyon that I just keep hiking, pushing myself to go faster and faster in order to catch the last remnants of fire on the mountain before the sun sets completely. Before I know it, I've reached the final numbered marker: 10. That means I've hiked the full mile.

If I had more time I would take the loop hike through Gower Gulch for another three miles or the spur trail to Zabriskie Point, only 1.5 miles from where I'm standing. But even now, the only sunlight is shining high above on Red Cathedral.

Iron in the rock gives this formation its deep red color and in the fading light it's even more magnificent. A nearby trail sign says it's only another quarter-mile to the cathedral and I have to admit it's tempting.

A European couple is returning from the cathedral and they seem to sense my inner debate. They tell me to continue, so I decide to take their advice.

There's still enough light to easily navigate narrow twists and turns through the badlands. I lose sight of Red Cathedral at times as the canyon walls close in, but soon enough I find myself at an opening with a grand view of the formation.

By now the light has faded even from the Cathedral, but it's still a beautiful view. More than that, it's a beautiful moment. I feel as if I'm at one with the earth. It's fitting that I'm at a place named for a religious structure because this is a spiritual experience.

I don't want to leave, but before long it will be dark and I'm all alone in a Death Valley canyon. Grudgingly, I begin the easy walk back down the canyon, not expecting much from the shadowy return trip.

Yet Golden Canyon continues to surprise me. The lovely song "Golden" by My Morning Jacket plays on repeat in my head as I navigate the canyon's gentle curves. It's eminently peaceful — the only sounds coming from my footsteps, which become louder as the canyon narrows at certain spots and they echo off the cliffs.

When the canyon opens up again I'm blessed with a vision of pink clouds glowing in the sky above, the fading twilight silhouetting the viciously jagged cliffs. Bats flutter silently through the canyon and up into the pale blue sky.

I've always found God in nature. Tonight I see Him in the light that filters through the canyon. I feel Him in the gentle breeze. I hear Him in the silence of this desert tranquility.